


@AmazingPhil: Landed in Vegas!

by snsk



Series: 30 min request thing [6]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, happy birthday dan, las vegas canon mark, tatinof usa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: “It’s his birthday,” Phil said brightly, pressing his knuckles to Dan’s cheek, and the man smiled again. “He’s twenty-five!”(for the anon who requested: would u consider writing a Dan's birthday in Vegas while on the tatinof tour fic)





	

**Author's Note:**

> i am just so good at naming things

 

**0**

“Shut your eyes,” Marianne said, after the show, as they sat around backstage and waited for the car.

“Please don’t do this,” Dan said. “I still have so much to live for.”

Phil laughed, and covered Dan’s eyes with his palms. Dan startled, a bit, because - there were still people, and - but Phil didn’t draw away, so that was okay.

“Are you ready for your second present?” Fleur asked.

“Hit me with it.”

“Open!” Jules said, and Phil drew his hands away; Dan said, “Fu- _uck_ ,” and Phil laughed again, bright and pleased.

“Do you like it?” he asked, shaking Dan’s thigh, just a bit. “It’s a llamacorn piñata! Do you, do you? It was their idea.”

Dan saw the colour, though, and the way Phil vibrated beside him: he’d helped. “It’s bloody _brilliant_ , I am in _shock_ ,” he said, and scooped it up, and hugged it.

“There’s nothing in it but old scraps of newspaper, don’t get too excited,” Louie advised.

“Amazing anyway, thank you,” Dan said, grinning, and started inspecting it all over. “Did you make this your _selves_ ,” he asked, and they nodded, and he set it aside to hug them all. These people liked him, enough to do this anyway, didn’t hate working with and for him and it was nice. It was nice. He took a picture of Phil pretending to ride the llamacorn, and they settled in to wait for the car back to the hotel.

 

*******

**-12**

In the morning, the first thing they’d done was visit the fake Eiffel tower; Dan had a Razzmatazz and Phil sipped at a Berry A’Peeling. The table beside theirs had begun to chant Happy Birthday at one of their party, and Phil raised an eyebrow.

“It would totally seem, like, mocking if we did it now,” he said.

Anna laughed, sounding far too happy for this sort of early. Usually she was grumpy and monosyllablic and she and Phil grunted at each other as they passed on the bus, in full mutual agreement about the ridiculousness of mornings. “Should we anyway?”

“Please don’t,” Dan said, trying to hide behind his cocktail.

“We’re just trying to celebrate you, Dan,” Mark said, very earnestly. “What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t?”

“What kind of friends would you be if you _did_?” Dan asked. “Phil! Save me from this cyberbullying.”

Phil was too busy taking about fifty different pictures of Dan and his cocktail to listen. The view of Vegas spread itself out, bright and early, from the windows, and Dan rubbed an overlooked lick of sun cream into his elbow and pretended to roll his eyes at the camera.

 

 *******  

**+0.5**

It was a limo.

“A limo!” Marianne announced, like they might mistake it for some other species of car. “Come on, you rockstars.”

Dan was still gawping, and Phil was shaking his head. “That’s a limo,” he was saying. He caught Dan’s eye, and they both started giggling.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Definitely,” Phil assured her, “thank you, Marianne, you’re amazing,” and she ushered them into it. Inside, it was all black-tinted windows and luxurious space, mini-screen and speakers playing something vaguely sweet and classical. Bruch, Dan thought, and he looked over at Phil and grinned again.

“Sellouts,” Phil said, shaking his head.

“Corporate fucks,” Dan agreed, “gliding past the masses, thinking they’re hot shit.”

Everything was butter-soft and leathery; Dan sank into the cushions, and Phil sank his head into his shoulder. The post-show high was wearing off, and he mostly felt quite pleasant and a bit tired and at general peace with the world.

“We could Beyonce it up,” he said, letting the words trip lazily out, tired rambling. “Can’t waste this opportunity. Private show with the music blasting. You can call me Peaches and everything.”

“Can I really,” Phil said, calm as anything, and then his hand was suddenly sliding up Dan’s shirt, oh, _oh_. “And pop all your buttons and rip your blouse?”

It was embarrassing, really, how fast Dan could go from vaguely sleepy to half hard and flushed _every_ where, how Phil always managed that effect on him, how _little_ it took.

And then Phil was moving his hand away and kissing his jaw, setting some space between them, and Dan caught it, past caring already.

Phil’s eyes were oddly bright against the dimness of the space, like underwater light, almost. All amusement and want. “Later,” he promised. “Later, Yoncé.”

 

 *******  

**-10**

After the Eiffel Tower Experience, which was about as tourist-y and kitschy as they could have hoped, they made their way down the South Boulevard. It was a hot, hot morning, Phil trailing behind, applying even more sun cream onto his body, liberal amounts which would mean they’d have to stop at another pharmacy soon. Dan made comments about the vivid noisy city and made much more fun of Phil’s like, _fragile vampire skin_ that would fall apart any _second_ , probably.

“Who’s going to have the last laugh when you’re in bed tonight suffering from sunburn?” Phil asked, squeezing a cold dollop onto the back of Dan’s neck, making him jump.

“Phil,” he said, fully intending to smush it onto his cheek, but jumping again: something cool and wet and overwhelming. He turned his head: a vibrating machine blew some more cheerful wet mist right into his face.

Dan moaned. Fleur, beside him, turned in surprise at the sound of a dying animal. “My hair!” he explained, and she shook her head in amusement.

“This is clearly karma,” Phil remarked, and only laughed when Dan _did_ smush the cream onto his cheek, held onto Dan’s wrist and poked his tongue out, totally uncaring of Dan’s predicament. _Heartless_ , the man was.

 

*******

**+1**

They reached their hotel. Dan took a nice long hot bath and scrolled through twitter; most people who’d bothered about the limo thing were just amused about it, he took his time until Phil called out, “Dan, we have a reservation.”

“No we don’t,” Dan said. “We only have that aquatic show thing with the others later, remember? Also, come join me.”

“We have a reservation,” Phil insisted, now from the doorway. He let his gaze slide down Dan’s chest, though: warm, appreciative. “I’d love to, but come get dressed.”

Dan put on the nice red plaid Phil liked on him and checked his hair and took like five selfies against the window which he probably wouldn’t post. Phil took a shower and kissed him on the cheek and led him out of their hotel room.

They did, actually, have a reservation.

It was a table near the window, with a view of all of Vegas, busy and magnificent and lit up, just the way they liked their views from high buildings. Just for Dan.

 _Just_ for Dan, because Phil had booked this particular hotel restaurant out, and a waiter came to them and lit their candle, and another laid out two slices of particularly expensive-looking cake, and then they melted discreetly away into the kitchens or something, and then it was just them, them and their view.

“Happy birthday to you,” Phil sang, low and quirking his mouth up at Dan, clapping in time, “happy birthday to you, happy birthday to-”

“I love you,” Dan said, and felt a bit like he was going to cry, it was dumb.

“As you can clearly see, Dan,” Phil said, waving a hand around, “I can’t stand the sight of you. I’m sorry to have to break it to you like this.”

“I thought so,” Dan said, laugh almost watery, but Phil wouldn’t tell anyone.

His foot locked around Dan’s ankle. “Blow the candle out,” he instructed, and took a bunch of pictures of Dan doing just that.

“Make a wish,” he reminded.

Dan said: “I’m good.”

 

*******

**-9**

When they reached the street where Louie assured them his buddy had assured him had the best breakfast food, waffles and pancakes and french toast, Dan spotted something in the window, and tugged at Phil’s arm.

“Oh, Dan,” Phil said, very long-sufferingly. “No, you will embarrass me so _much_.”

“But it’s ironic,” Dan said.

“But people won’t know that,” Phil argued despairingly.

“But it’s my birthday,” Dan said.

Which was how he acquired his black bedazzled fedora. “M’Lester,” he said, trying it on outside.

“I’m not taking pictures, Dan.”

“But I need to commemorate this moment,” Dan said.

“You’re spoilt,” Phil informed him, taking pictures on the sidewalk while the rest of their group slowly inched away in a manner that suggested that they had no idea who these people were. “I’ve spoiled you,” he said, in a tone filled with regret. “And now I pay for my sins.”

“Make sure you get this angle,” Dan said sweetly, turning slightly.

Phil sighed, but indulged him. As he always would. Because there wasn’t anybody else Phil would pamper like this, was there? He was spoilt, and he was Phil’s, and he allowed himself a secret little moment to revel in it, as you do.

He caught Phil’s eye. Phil was looking fond, and exasperated, and still holding the camera up like he’d caught that moment too and knew exactly what Dan was thinking, of course he had, of course he did.

“Come on, then, french toast awaits,” he said, and reached up to take the hat away for safekeeping, and let his arm brush against Dan’s while he was at it.

 

*******

**+2**

It was called Le Rêve - ‘The Dream,’ and the performers were doing a frankly insane underwater tango, and Phil couldn’t look. He was peeking out from behind his fingers, and exclaiming that they’d slip and _fall_.

“Now, Phil,” Dan said. “Not everyone has like no coordination whatsoever- did you see that? Phil, he just dropped that far - that’s gotta be more than fifteen metres - and caught her, Jesus!”

There was a dinner date at a table rising into the air, which Phil seemed much more interested in, and then female acrobats swinging from a sphere like, fifty feet from land, and a group ballroom dancing sequence on slippery, shifting surfaces that gave him several heart attacks, probably, as he spent most of it burying his face in Dan’s shoulder.

Then some synchronised swimming, and fireworks, set to Cirque-esque music. It was all a glorious mad mess. Phil’s eyes reflected the light as he watched it, and that was its own kind of lovely.

“Oh, but the dream lover isn’t real,” he said disappointedly, as the Dreamer agonized over him and a real-life man. “Make the right choice, lady!”

Dan felt rather sorry for the Dreamer, actually. To not know if your love was dreamt up…

 _He_ was real, solid and soft against Dan’s side.

There could be no mistake about that.

 

*******

**-9**

Phil was making slightly orgasmic sounds. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, god!”

“We’re going to be kicked out,” Dan remarked, but nobody was listening, making terrible, moaning sounds of their own.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jules said to her whipped cream and waffles.

“Fuck,” Mark groaned at his pancakes.

“I told you,” Louie said, rather smugly.

Dan darted a look around the restaurant, which hopefully they interpreted as _we apologise for traumatising the kids._

“Come taste this,” Phil said, offering Dan some of his toast.

Dan let Phil put it in his mouth. It was fine, nobody was looking, it was fine. He had some cream on his wrist, he was ridiculous. Dan would entertain no thoughts about licking it off and curling his tongue over his pulse point. He chewed instead.

“Oh _god_ ,” he said, exclamation surprised out of him. He was pretty sure his eyes had rolled to the back of his head.

“Told you,” Phil said, giggling, delighted at this. And he fed Dan some more, and the place was crowded as all hell, and it was still fine, so that was okay.

 

*******

**+3**

“Oh my god,” Dan said. “Oh my god. Phil!”

Anna was whooping, and Juliet was tearing up laughing, hanging on to Cornelia for support, everyone a bit too tipsy except Louie, who was looking on indulgently. Dan wasn’t sure whether he felt it was still his responsiblity to watch out for them or if he was being healthier than all of them and not drinking. Either way, Phil hadn’t totally wasted his 100 chip, and he was grinning at all of them and Dan was snapping pictures of the moment until Phil wrapped his arms around his neck, squashing the llamacorn between them.

“Oh,” Dan said, breathless, “oh, Phil,” but nobody was really looking, were they? and Phil pressed a sloppy, quick kiss to his neck before drawing away, letting Mark declare him _a fuckin’ wizard, man_. Dan finished his drink, let Anna lead him to a LOTR slot, and ached for Phil’s touch again, like he always did.

But Phil, like he was attuned to Dan’s thoughts, only stayed in conversation with Mark for a few more minutes before he said something, gripped Mark’s arm briefly that Mark saluted with his glass, and made a beeline straight to Dan.

“How are you doing, birthday boy,” he said, tugging at a llamacorn leg. He was loose and flushed, victory and drink. “Are you bringing Anna good luck?”

“Hardly,” Anna said, watching the numbers roll up.

“Sorry,” Dan said, remorseful.

“Oh, I guess you’re forgiven.” She looked up at them. Something made her laugh and say, “Oh, go on then,” and make a shooing motion with her hands. “I’m going to go find Jules, we’re going to hit- well, we’ll see you in the morning.” She slid out of her chair, and waved, and disappeared into the crowd.

Phil watched her go, and then stepped, just a little, into Dan’s personal space. “Are you going to follow me up, or am I going to have to make some terrible pun about getting lucky?”

Dan used his piñata to gently bump at his cheek. “Don’t you dare,” he said, instead of something ridiculous like  _I’ll follow you anywhere._

 

The elevator music was especially awful. Dan hummed along, and Phil playfully nipped his shoulder, again, again, until Dan had to say, frustratedly, “Phil, wait till we get to the _room_ ,” which only made Phil laugh and set his teeth to Dan’s earlobe instead.

“Phil,” Dan said, clenching and unclenching his fists around the llamacorn’s legs. “You’re a horrible person, it’s my birthday, I deserve bet-”

The elevator stopped on a floor decidedly not theirs, and an elderly looking man shuffled in, complete with tweed hat and cane. Phil stayed right in Dan’s personal space, and Dan assumed he’d smiled at the old man, because the guy was smiling back and saying, “Good looking piñata you got there.”

“It’s his birthday,” Phil said brightly, pressing his knuckles to Dan’s cheek, and the man smiled again. “He’s twenty-five!”

“Good on you, son,” the guy said. The doors opened, and he said, “you two enjoy your night,” and he tipped his hat at them - was that a _wink_ \- and left.

“You’re so silly,” Dan said, and that was as far as he got before Phil was taking his llamacorn away, kissing him, warm and filthy, licking into Dan’s mouth. Dan lost his breath and never really got it back, after that. Phil was all over him, arm that wasn’t holding the pinata loosely by his side cupping Dan’s cheek, tight in Dan’s hair. When they reached the hotel room- somehow they had reached the hotel room, Dan had no concept of time, space, he did not remember the walk there- he distractedly waved his card until the sensor beeped, all while Phil swirled his tongue into his ear and drove him crazy, made him grind up into Phil’s leg in the corridor where anyone could _see_. They stumbled into the room, pulling at clothes, messy and impatient, oh did Dan love it when it was like this.

“How do you want it, birthday boy,” Phil asked, running his hands down Dan’s chest, up, thumbing at his nipples. The llamacorn stared at them from the chair Phil had dumped it in. Dan reached out a hand, pushed it so it fell over; it didn’t need to see him being thoroughly and toe-curlingly debauched. Tomorrow he’d place it carefully onto the bed before they packed up, arrange the covers around it just to see Phil smile and roll his eyes, but now-

-he said, “Want, want,” incoherently, already trying to push himself up against Phil again, and hoped Phil knew he meant, rough and slow and raw, everything you’ll give me, _everything._

Phil smiled, slow, against his cheek. “Alright, darling,” he said, because somehow he’d understood exactly what Dan wanted. Of course he did. “Everything,” he reassured him, and tipped Dan back onto the bed, proceeded to do just that.

 

* * *

 

 

read on tumblr [here](http://snsknene.tumblr.com/post/153135685153/would-u-consider-writing-a-dans-birthday-in-vegas)


End file.
